


stage fright (if i’m given the night)

by featherx



Series: requests [15]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Butt Plugs, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Frottage, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Spanking, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Table Sex, top yuri/bottom mbyleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherx/pseuds/featherx
Summary: It’d been small things—lingering sidelong glances, the heat that sparked up his skin whenever Yuri brushed their fingers together, Byleth’s unconscious decision to sit perhaps a bit closer to Yuri than necessary. The tension built up until it felt like static in the air every time they locked eyes, even when Byleth was up in the tech booth and Yuri was onstage. It was simply impossible to miss the intensity in those violet eyes.And then they fucked in the tech booth after rehearsal.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Series: requests [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1388335
Comments: 10
Kudos: 197





	stage fright (if i’m given the night)

**Author's Note:**

> want a 14k word long yurileth smut fic? just buy me a switch game! thanks mikey ❤❤❤  
> title from [eat u alive by marian hill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJdCtixIp2Q) (stream new EP was it not [on spotify](https://open.spotify.com/album/2ItKtHGJDP9TYI1oLrBzJ0?si=8UXCYU13RzqvJUcyZnbIAQ) NOW!!)

“Nnh… Byleth, fuck…”

In the time Byleth has gotten to know Yuri, in far more ways than one, he likes to think he’s gotten much better at blowjobs than he used to be. For one, he’s kicked his gag reflex to the curb. For another—

Yuri sighs, the flush high on his cheeks, sweat glimmering in the dim light coming through the curtains. “Like that,” he murmurs, hand gripping Byleth’s hair hard. “Just like that. Such a good boy.”

For another, Byleth knows exactly what to do, knows that swirling his tongue around the head of Yuri’s cock and pressing against the slit will have Yuri’s legs shaking and forces him to lean against the wall behind his back for balance. Byleth knows exactly what Yuri wants, knows how to make Yuri come in his mouth with a choked moan he has to stifle in the crook of his elbow lest his voice carry across the auditorium, and he _likes_ how it feels—to know someone this well, to know _Yuri_ this well.

Byleth swallows as best as he can, though he doesn’t try to keep some from dripping down his chin—he doesn’t mind, and he knows Yuri certainly doesn’t either. “Thanks for the meal,” Byleth dryly says, licking at the excess come smeared across his mouth.

Yuri reddens further, something Byleth doesn’t need light to notice. “You _have_ to stop saying that every time you do this. How would you feel if I finished sucking you off and said _that?_ ”

“I’d take it as a compliment, really.” Byleth stands up, trying to hide how unsteady his legs still are, both from kneeling on the floor for so long and from… earlier.

This whole thing—giving Yuri a blowjob behind the stage curtains, that is—started because Yuri apparently thought it would be a great idea to shoot suggestive glances over to where Byleth was positioned in the wings during rehearsal. Normally, Byleth would have no problem with that—he’s more or less conditioned to just about any look Yuri gives him by this point—but when Yuri’s decked out in full makeup for his role in the play, and he keeps giving Byleth those annoyingly gorgeous bedroom eyes…

Not to mention Yuri had _also_ thought it would be fun to jerk Byleth off behind the curtains in between scenes, then rush off right before Byleth would have finished. _Three times._ The only reason Byleth didn’t torture Yuri within an inch of his life in revenge is because… well, he likes seeing Yuri from below. It’s a nice sight. You can’t blame him. And anyway, the orgasm from when he’d _finally_ been able to come… Byleth can see why people like edging now.

In the darkness of the auditorium, Yuri’s eyes somehow still glint like lavender stars. “Is it fine if I come over tonight? Not for another round, unless you’re up for it. But I found a new recipe online, and if you’re not gonna use the ingredients in your fridge, I might as well.”

“Oh, okay. I’d like that.” Just thinking of Yuri’s cooking has Byleth salivating (again). Now that’s a real meal. “What is it? Something sweet again?”

“Some dessert, actually. You’ve got enough for at least a few servings, so you can keep some for a snack or whatever.” Yuri fumbles around in the dark for a moment, before turning his phone flashlight on and scouring the place for his bookbag. Byleth steps over and lifts it for him as usual. “Oh—thanks. Okay, so the recipe title was telling me I’d, like, go ape shit over this banana pudding…”

Does Byleth have bananas? He doesn’t remember the last time he ate a fruit, or something that wasn’t fast food in general. Yuri walks ahead of him as always, pace just a step too fast for Byleth to catch up with, before he looks behind himself, slows down, and falls in step beside Byleth.

It’s a tiny thing. Something small and minuscule and insignificant. Certainly not something Byleth should be assigning a disproportionate amount of significance to. Certainly not something he should be reading so deep into.

But he looks beside him, listens to the excited stream of chatter he’s grown used to, and…

Well, he likes seeing Yuri. From above, from below, whatever. Just in general. It’s a nice sight—a sight Yuri doesn’t have to know about.

It had started small.

Before she left for an art school halfway across the city, Byleth’s sister introduced him to Edelgard. Edelgard introduced him to Constance. Constance introduced him to Yuri. Byleth figured he had just made himself a load of acquaintances, and that it would end there.

Except it didn’t, because Edelgard found out he wasn’t in a club yet and encouraged him to join the theatre club as a member of the production team, specifically as a scriptwriter, since their old one had just graduated, and isn’t Byleth taking up creative writing as his major? Byleth hadn’t had the nerve to refuse, especially when Edelgard constantly spoke like she was holding everyone at gunpoint, so he decided it wouldn’t be so bad. Then he’d found out Yuri was a main actor in the theatre club too, which meant they had to work together often. And, like, okay. Whatever, right? It _should_ end there.

Except it… didn’t, again. Yuri was nice. He shared his leftovers from lunch once in the middle of a rehearsal because Byleth muttered something about being hungry, and the way to Byleth’s heart is his stomach. And when the prod crew needed help, Yuri was always the first to offer his, even though he doesn’t really have the arm strength needed for carrying the set pieces. And Yuri is _pretty,_ something Byleth gradually began to acknowledge the more time they spent together—pretty in a way that meant he drew all eyes in the room to himself, pretty in a way that meant Byleth’s palms tended to sweat every time Yuri came too close.

It’d been small things—lingering sidelong glances, the heat that sparked up his skin whenever Yuri brushed their fingers together, Byleth’s unconscious decision to sit perhaps a bit closer to Yuri than necessary. The tension built up until it felt like static in the air every time they locked eyes, even when Byleth was up in the tech booth and Yuri was onstage. It was simply impossible to miss the intensity in those violet eyes.

And then they fucked in the tech booth after rehearsal.

Not exactly the ideal beginning, Byleth thinks. In his past relationships, few and far in between, hand-holding had been second base. He’d only ever kissed with tongue a few times, and the only thing that had gone up his ass before Yuri had been the set of butt plugs his sister had helped him smuggle under Dad’s eyes when they were in their senior year in high school. There just hadn’t been much _time_ for more than that… or willing partners, for that matter.

But Yuri was—is—a different story. He’d known what he wanted. He’d asked Byleth to stay in the tech booth after rehearsal for a few minutes, to ask him about something in the script, and then when the auditorium had been completely empty—

“How about it?”

It’s _slightly_ embarrassing, how vivid Byleth remembers the encounter. He’d looked up from the script, blanked out at the sight of Yuri’s face so close to his, and could only manage, “Wh—What?”

Yuri propped one arm up on the desk and leaned forward; with only a wall behind Byleth and the audio system beside him, he’d effectively caged Byleth in. “We’re alone together right now,” Yuri said, as if Byleth weren’t hyper-aware of that. “No security cameras in the tech booth. So? Do you want to?”

“Want to…?”

“Don’t make me spell it out for you.” Yuri grinned, as if he knew Byleth knew, as if he knew he was only asking out of courtesy—because really, if Yuri had just walked in the tech booth and jumped Byleth right then and there, things would have played out the exact same way they did.

So there went maybe the second-ever blowjob Byleth had ever gotten, and it had happened in a tech booth, at 7pm, where the door had been left unlocked and a security guard could just walk in. He’d squirmed and moaned and panted and pulled Yuri’s hair without even knowing he liked hair-pulling yet, and then he’d tried to tell Yuri to stop because Byleth was getting close and he didn’t want to make him swallow, and Yuri had looked at him like he was asking _what the hell are you talking about,_ and swallowed. Byleth had almost passed out from embarrassment.

“It’s not like it’s _bad,_ ” Yuri said, wiping come off his chin. “An acquired taste, that’s for sure. Okay, my turn.”

“Your…?” Byleth didn’t know how to tell Yuri that he was sort of, maybe, _definitely_ not that good at blowjobs. And by ‘not that good,’ he really meant ‘awful, mostly from lack of practice and experience.’

Yuri leaned back against the audio system—Byleth was too tired to tell him not to—stared at Byleth for a good few seconds, then retrieved something distinctly packet-like from his pocket and casually asked, “You’re a bottom, aren’t you?” as if inquiring about the weather.

Things progressed in a fairly linear fashion afterwards: Yuri fingered him open, Byleth tried his best not to be too loud in case someone was nearby, Yuri told him to be as loud as he wanted because with the window overlooking the auditorium closed, the tech booth was essentially soundproof. Byleth came so hard, some of it got on the audio system, and he had spent maybe five minutes panicking about it before Yuri ran down to where his bags were and grabbed a tissue pack.

Thinking back on it, Byleth has a feeling that’s _really_ not how first times are supposed to go, but it had led to Byleth awkwardly inviting Yuri over for dinner as ‘thanks,’ so maybe it wasn’t that bad.

The thing is that Byleth doesn’t really know what their relationship is, if he can even really call it a relationship. Like, they’re friends, and they do friends-stuff together. They go out for coffee and cake far too often to be possibly healthy, for one thing. Sometimes Yuri asks Byleth to help him practice lines even though there’s an entire cast of actual actors for him to do that with. Sometimes Byleth drives for hours just to dump Sothis the cat at his sister’s place for a while, then thoroughly vacuums his apartment so he can invite Yuri over without worrying about him having an allergy attack. Typical _friends-stuff,_ but with a lot more sex than there probably should be.

Okay, yeah, friends with benefits. Really, Byleth can live with that. What bothers him is that they’d never really _established_ what they are—Yuri just gives him a Look, and Byleth will instantly know he’s going to be sore the entire next day. And then Yuri gives him a different sort of Look, and Byleth will instantly know his kitchen is going to be raided for some new recipe. They might have even been dating for almost a year by now, and Byleth wouldn’t _know,_ because Yuri had never _said anything._

Is it too late to ask? _Should_ Byleth ask? Because he doesn’t know if he’s content with just this—this friendship, this relationship, this _whatever this is_ —and he wants, rather desperately, to know what he is to Yuri.

“Everyone! Listen up, I’ve only got a few minutes!”

Dorothea elbows Byleth in the side. “Wake up, Edie’s here.”

“Ugh…” Byleth blinks blearily, stretching his arms and flexing his neck—the script for their new play is in front of him, looking as long and challenging as ever.

Edelgard bustles towards where the theatre club has gathered, her gigantic bag the size of a battle axe slung over one shoulder. “For today, practice the major scenes, especially the ones with choreo! Better we start on those as soon as possible and get you all used to the motions already. Tech, familiarize yourselves with the script, get used to your cues for sounds and lights. We have a lot of set pieces for this show, too, so it’d be good to get started on the designs for those, at least.”

Byleth massages his temple, staring blankly down at his unmarked script. Why does he have to be the only person among them who understands how the sound board works while also capable of lifting a platform or two?

“Questions?” Edelgard gives the members her typical all-seeing glare, an expression she apparently can’t control. “None? Okay, get to work! I have to deliver something to our mod, so be responsible and don’t slack off before I get back!” And she’s off, racing out of the auditorium after retrieving a thick sheaf of papers from her bag.

As expected, the members proceed to slack off. Byleth wishes he could join in, but despite how sleepy he is, he has enough sense to grab the script and trudge towards the stairs leading up to the tech booth. Better start now, so he can finish early and maybe catch a quick nap later…

“By _leeeth._ ”

Byleth grudgingly turns around. “What?” If he’s a little more tired than usual today, that’s the stress and the sleep deprivation talking.

Yuri frowns. “Oh. You look more awful than I thought. Are you alright?”

“I could do with a long nap… but I’m fine. What is it?”

“Help me with choreo, then.” Yuri grins, crossing his arms over his chest. “Balthus ditched today, and everyone else is relaxing. Anyway, what better way to wake you up than with a bit of dancing?”

Byleth almost chokes on his spit. “ _Dancing?_ ” He doesn’t remember a dance scene anywhere in the script. And he’d remember, because he _wrote it._

“Well, not _literally,_ it’s the fight near the beginning of Act 2.” Yuri holds the script up—it already looks dirtier than Byleth’s, which is a good thing, because a dirty script is a good script—and flips to the appropriate page for Byleth to squint at. “You know, the one where I dramatically throw away my sword even though it’d be far easier to just end the fight if I kept it…”

Oh, Byleth knows this fight scene. Because he wrote it. Painstakingly, in the middle of the night or possibly early morning, doing his best to remember past experiences in kendo and different martial arts training Dad had enrolled him and his sister in before. The part where Yuri thoroughly trounces Balthus despite the strength difference was entirely based off the innumerable amount of times his sister slammed him to the ground in every single one of their practice matches. “Okay. It shouldn’t be so hard.”

“Seriously? ‘Cause with all the instructions on this thing, it reads more like a combat manual than a college play script.” Yuri narrows his eyes at him. “You wrote this part, didn’t you? Bernadetta doesn’t know a thing about fight scenes.”

Byleth scratches his cheek. “I had some classes before, so…”

“Hmm.” Yuri smiles again, though this time it looks much less like a typical greeting and more like the sort of thing he reserves for certain activities. “Explains all your _stamina,_ that’s for sure.”

Byleth feels the tips of his ears go red. “Don’t—Don’t just—” He can’t even get the rest of his words out. This is what Yuri does to him, and from _one_ sentence.

Yuri looks like he means to keep the provocative smile on his face, but it morphs into a more genuinely amused one as he hides his laugh behind his hand. “No one’s even listening! No one’s even _paying attention_ in general, look at these layabouts.”

“You should hope Hubert didn’t hear that.” The vice-president of the theatre club—and Byleth’s only other companion in the tech booth in most shows—is always listening.

“ _You_ should hope Hubert didn’t hear what I said _before_ that. Well? Let’s fight already!”

The fight choreo is even easier than Byleth expected—writing it all down makes it seem long and tedious, but the movements themselves are fast and to-the-point, straightforward enough to master with enough practice but still just the right level of intense to capture the audience’s attention (hopefully, anyway). So while Byleth acts, extremely badly, as Balthus, he talks Yuri through the motions as best as he can to help him learn even faster than he usually does. “So, you just sort of… push me like this.”

“Push you,” Yuri repeats.

“Yeah.”

Yuri pushes him, on the shoulder. There is a moderate amount of force behind the action, but not enough to send Byleth on the floor. “There.”

“Okay, that’s technically correct, but I sort of meant…” Byleth frowns. “Uh, when I mean _push,_ it’s sort of, like, you do this thing, and then…” This is a lot harder to explain than he thought. “You know what I mean.”

Yuri snorts in amusement. “I get it, it all comes naturally to you, doesn’t it? So _flexible._ ”

He grabs Byleth’s arm while Byleth is momentarily blacking out, twisting him to his back as instructed in the script—though he’s still not quite thinking straight, Byleth’s reflexes kick in, and he tears himself out of Yuri’s grip before he remembers he’s supposed to be following the script, not going directly against it. “Oh, uh, sor—”

Yuri grabs him again, this time for the wrist—Byleth is around 60 percent sure this is in the script, so he lets himself be thrown down on the stage… or he would, if Yuri doesn’t catch him a second before he falls and gently lowers him to the floor instead. “That’s not part of the script,” Byleth reprimands.

“What, the wrist-twist-whatever? Yeah it is, it comes after the line about the knife.”

“No, I meant the part where you catch me before I fall,” Byleth says, sitting up to face Yuri, who looks endearingly bemused. “You can go harder. I can take it.”

He doesn’t get to add, ‘and Balthus probably can, too,’ at the end like he intended, because he realizes right after the words leave his mouth that now _he’s_ the one who’s being provocative, if only accidentally. Yuri blinks down at him, the one caught off-guard for once, then grins again—only now it’s more of him baring his teeth, in the same way he does whenever he’s planning on marking Byleth up. “Oh, can you?”

“Yuri—”

“Like this, then?” Yuri asks, and shoves Byleth down to the stage, pinning his wrists above his head with sudden strength. His knee comes down to rest between Byleth’s thighs, and slowly—teasingly— _torturously_ —grinds upwards.

Byleth’s brain short-circuits for a precious few seconds.

His system restarts back to life just in time for him to hear the auditorium doors opening and Edelgard saying, “Alright, I’m back, what did I miss—oh, what the fuck.”

Byleth sits up so fast he bangs his forehead against Yuri’s, who backs away with an affronted yelp. “It’s not what you think!” he shouts, if only to make sure Edelgard hears him from across the auditorium. Good thing the acoustics aren’t bad in a place literally built to exemplify sound. “It’s not what you think,” he repeats, meekly—now everyone in the theatre club is staring at them whilst pretending to not have been very clearly slacking off.

Edelgard looks far from convinced. “Was that at least something for the play? I wasn’t aware the script included anything like _that._ ”

“My bad, Pres,” Yuri pipes up, sitting back on his feet. The lights above the stage make the sweat dripping down the side of his face far more attractive than it really should be, something Byleth does his absolute best to ignore. “Messed up the fight scene a little. But I’ve got the choreo down pat.”

“No, you don’t,” Byleth mutters.

“Or I will, with some practice _Byleth_ here would be more than happy to help out with.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Byleth mutters again, though they both know he doesn’t mean it because he can’t quite keep the smile off his face.

At least Edelgard doesn’t look mad that everyone else had obviously done nothing, though that may just be because she’s too exhausted to care—she gives the club members a weary look, then sighs and shakes her head, pale strands of hair falling out of its side-ponytail. “Get to work. Do you all _want_ Professor Manuela to come here herself?”

Byleth turns back to face Yuri, whose forehead is still distinctly red. “I’ll be, uh. At the tech booth. P-Practice some other scenes, or whatever.”

And then, because he’s fairly certain he’s going to spontaneously combust if he looks at Yuri any longer, he jumps to his feet, grabs his script, and bolts towards the stairs.

Up above in the tech booth, overlooking the entire auditorium, Byleth reclines against his favorite revolving chair and lets out a heavy sigh. Since Hubert’s usually by Edelgard’s side at all times, Byleth can usually count on being alone in here to space out as much as he wants. He fiddles with the sounds and lights first, though, just to have accomplished _something_ for today’s club meeting, but…

His hand’s still a little shaky while he’s writing down notes and highlighting cues. It’s as if his wrist refuses to forget the feeling of Yuri’s hand holding it down, forcing him in place…

The pen falls out of his grip. Byleth curses and snatches it out of the air before it can roll off the table.

Why does he always get like this? They’ve been doing… this… alright, fine, they’ve been fucking for nearly a year now (or has it already been a year? it’s not as if they have anniversaries), so why does Byleth somehow never get used to it and reduces into a blushing virgin every time something like this happens!?

Byleth leans forward, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin up on his palm. No… maybe he _did_ get used to it for a while—until of course, he started overthinking everything. But you can’t _blame_ him, because—what is he to Yuri? What is _all this_ to Yuri? Will they still be a Thing after they graduate? Or will Yuri approach him during the ceremony and quietly break their questionable relationship off, like, _Thanks for the sex, now it’s time for me to find someone I actually like?_

Belatedly, he realizes his hand has stilled by now, and he can write steadily without a problem. Byleth sighs, and supposes that’s one good thing that came out of this.

After rehearsal, Byleth busies himself with stuffing his things back in his tattered bag and wondering about what to have for dinner tonight—there’s that chicken place just down the road, but he’s been running short on pocket money lately, and he doesn’t want to bother Dad about that. Yuri had set aside some of the banana pudding from the other day in his fridge, and though it had admittedly been good, Byleth doubts it’d make a very fulfilling dinner…

He senses Yuri before he speaks this time, and Byleth is already turning around just as Yuri comes up the stairs. “Hey,” he greets, the smile that comes up looking unconscious. “Sheesh, you sure cooped yourself up here.”

“It’s nice and cold.” Definitely the best way to cool down after _that._

Yuri grins like he knows what Byleth’s thinking. He probably does. “What, so now you won’t even ask me for anything? After what I did earlier? I’m a little hurt.”

Byleth starts to feel his cheeks flush again, and hastily tries to calm himself down before it’s too late. Rather unfortunately, though, just remembering what Yuri had done earlier has his body heating up in other places aside from his face. And yet… “I, uh, don’t want to bother you or anything… in case you’re busy, or…”

Yuri frowns. “What? Where’s this coming from? I wouldn’t have asked if I had plans or something tonight, Byleth.” When Byleth doesn’t immediately respond, his head still frantically sorting through possible replies, Yuri slowly adds, “Unless… you don’t want to?”

“No, it’s not like that!” Byleth hurries to clarify. Being with Yuri is the thing he wants _most._ “It’s just… well…” _I’m worried this is just me using you, or you using me, and of course the sex is great and I like you a lot, but what about you?_ “It’s just that I haven’t vacuumed…”

“Oh, geez, _that’s_ your problem?” Yuri scoffs, looking amused. “It’s adorable how concerned you are, Byleth, but as long as the cat herself isn’t there, I’ll be fine. A few hairs won’t kill me.”

Byleth brightens. “Oh. Okay.” At the back of his head, he knows he’ll have to do something about… whatever the two of them are, about where they stand, about the feelings Byleth still needs to lay out for himself if not for Yuri, but…

For now, he’d rather not think about anything else but Yuri again.

They don’t make it two minutes into his apartment before Yuri grabs him by the collar and _pulls_ him close for a kiss that wipes all thoughts about dinner from Byleth’s head. Yuri mumbles something Byleth doesn’t understand, despite how Yuri is practically speaking directly against his lips, then presses him up against the wall, driving his leg between Byleth’s thighs again as if to finish what he’d started earlier—Byleth moans into Yuri’s mouth, his hands automatically grabbing to tug at Yuri’s hair.

“You wanted this, huh?” Yuri murmurs, sliding their lips together. It’s messy and wet and everything Byleth wants more of. “Did you like it when I did this? Up on stage, in front of dozens of other people?”

“Y-Yuri…”

Yuri goes lower, nipping at his throat. Byleth squirms in place—he knows he’s strong enough to overpower Yuri if he wants to, but he likes letting Yuri have control like this too. “Didn’t expect you of all people to have an exhibitionist streak… then again, if I had your body, I’d want to show it off too.”

Okay, that’s just too ridiculous to let Yuri get away with. “You _do_ have a nice body,” Byleth protests, tugging his hair more to get his attention than anything. “I like your arms. And your thighs. And your back.”

Yuri goes red. Byleth thinks he could do with seeing this sight more often. “Wh—Byleth, shut up, that wasn’t my _point._ ”

“But it’s true? Don’t you like showing off your body?”

“ _No?_ ”

“…To me?” Byleth amends. When Yuri doesn’t say anything right away, his expression looking embarrassed beyond belief, Byleth knows he wins this round. “I like it when you put on a show, Yuri.”

“Stop right there. Or I’ll bludgeon you to death.”

Why does he always have to resort to violence when Byleth manages to get the upper hand. “Do you want to top tonight?” Yuri usually does, but Byleth makes the effort to ask whenever he remembers to anyway—there are some nights Yuri wants Byleth to take care of him (or rail him, depending on his mood), and Byleth wouldn’t pass those nights up for anything.

Yuri stares at him for a good few seconds, then… gets an Idea. Idea, with a capital ‘I.’ Byleth knows this because the specific expression Yuri makes when he gets an Idea composes of a wicked grin and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You said you like it when I put on a show?”

“Um. Yes?” Byleth can feel his mouth drying up enough that speaking is physically painful.

“The feeling’s mutual. I like it when _you_ put on a show for _me._ ”

“What? Wait. I-I don’t know how to.” When Yuri does it, he always somehow manages to do it in a way that has Byleth needy and begging within a minute, usually less—and, well, there’s a reason Byleth vehemently refuses to do the same in return. It isn’t that he’d be embarrassed, but more because… he has a feeling he’d make a fool of himself, among other things.

Yuri shakes his head. “You’ve touched yourself. You know how.”

“I mean, okay, I _guess,_ but not in a way that, you know…” Byleth scours his head for a fitting word. So much for the creative writing degree. “Would make you… like it.” _Would make you like me._

“I like you whatever you do,” Yuri says, so casually and easily that Byleth is fairly certain his heart froze up like the rest of him for a second. “Come on. Bedroom?”

“You say that like you’re not the one who pushed me up and—”

“Bedroom.”

When they do eventually get to the bedroom, like they really should have done _before_ all the kissing and whatnot, Byleth reluctantly crawls up onto his bed while Yuri retrieves the lube from his dresser drawer and tosses it into his lap. “What do you…”

“Like how I do it sometimes,” Yuri prompts, absently sweeping Byleth’s hair out of his eyes and kissing his forehead. It’s unexpectedly tender, and Byleth fumbles with the lube for a moment. “Finger yourself open. Nice and easy. And _slow,_ so I can enjoy it.”

“I don’t think you—”

“Do you really not want to?” Yuri asks, his brow creasing ever so slightly. “I won’t force you, though this means you _will_ have to think of something for yourself to do.”

Byleth goes quiet, because—fine, maybe he sort of _does_ want to. He wants to see if Yuri actually likes him, _wants_ him, to see if Yuri reacts the same as Byleth does whenever their roles are reversed in this situation. And though Byleth’s prepared himself for Yuri dozens of times already, somehow being watched so intently makes it… different. More intense. More… intimate?

“Hello?” Yuri waves a hand in front of his face. “You’re still there, right?”

“I’m still here.” Byleth lets out a shaky sigh, then begins to undo the front of his trousers, feeling more than hearing Yuri let out an excited noise. “If I look stupid—”

“You _won’t,_ goodness.”

“—I’m never doing this again, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want.” Yuri isn’t doing a very good job at being convincing, though, with how he’s nearly bouncing on his heels in anticipation. “What?” he laughs, when Byleth shoots him an unamused look. “This is the first time I get to _watch._ Let me have it.”

It’s unnerving having Yuri’s eyes trained on his every movement, so Byleth stares at a spot on his blankets to pretend he’s alone in his bedroom, like he’s in high school again and desperate for that heat inside him—or like he’s in his first year of college again, staring at others (at Yuri) from afar, wondering and wondering and wondering. Byleth breathes in deep, then lowers his hand down to his entrance, rubbing around it with lube-slick fingers until his muscles relax enough for him to enter himself.

The sharp exhale he hears from Yuri, sitting at the foot of the bed, is instant gratification.

He inches his finger in bit by bit, letting himself get used to the intrusion first—when he goes in until the first knuckle he instinctively bites back a low gasp, but catches Yuri’s eyes across him and deliberately moans louder than necessary. The bed shifts as Yuri hastily rearranges himself, bringing his knees up to his chest. “What,” Byleth mutters, looking up at him faux-curiously, “did you like that?”

“You…” Yuri swallows thickly, a reaction more satisfying than Byleth had expected. “Keep going. Please?”

Really, Byleth prefers it a lot more when Yuri does this, but if Yuri’s just going to keep _staring_ at him like that, maybe doing this himself every once in a while isn’t so bad. Concentrating again, as much as he can concentrate while his brain is slowly melting into a puddle of mush, Byleth eases deeper into himself—the typical initial discomfort is quickly making way for that vague, hazy pleasure he’s grown addicted to over the past several months.

And when he looks up and sees Yuri watching, eyes wide and cheeks red, Byleth can’t help himself. “Yuri,” he pants, simultaneously adding another finger—this time, the moan he lets out isn’t quite as faked. “Yuri…”

“What?” Yuri manages, voice low and dripping with lust. “What do you want?”

“Wish you were—” Byleth cuts himself off with a harsh inhale, thrusting his fingers deeper inside—the sensation is paralyzing, and it takes him another second before he can speak again. “Wish you were inside me. Fucking me.” He scissors his fingers, lifts his legs up so Yuri has a clear view of him spreading his hole open. “W-Wish this were your cock…”

“ _Fuck._ ” Yuri exhales heavily again, running a hand through his hair. His hand is distinctly hidden behind his knees, although Byleth is fairly sure he knows what he’s doing anyway. “God. Why didn’t you want to do this? We should have started, like, fucking—ten months ago. Jesus, Byleth.”

He sounds so _desperate_ ; Byleth’s surprised by how much this is affecting him, because it isn’t as if he’s been doing much aside from… okay, maybe he’s been doing his best to rile Yuri up, but he’d _asked_ for that, so it’s fine, right? Still steadily moving his fingers in and out of himself, Byleth fumbles with his other hand to get a good grip on his cock, which has been pressed hard and flush against his thigh for the past minute now, a bead of pre-come beginning to trickle down his shaft. He swipes his thumb across the white, whimpering softly as he smears it across himself. “Mm— _nhh,_ Yuri, I…”

“Keep going,” Yuri urges. His voice is breathy, and when Byleth looks back at him, he’s not even trying to hide how he’s pumping his cock in time with Byleth’s fingers, wetness dripping down his hand. “Fuck. You look so fucking good, Byleth, keep _going._ ”

“Mnph…” Would another finger be okay? Another finger would probably be okay. Yuri is way bigger than this, and they’ve done less preparation before. Byleth slips in another digit, a choked moan escaping him before he can even think of stifling it—he speeds up his pace, keeping his own eye on how Yuri is jerking himself off (to the sight of _him_ —the concept is still hard to wrap his head around, despite it happening right now), because in this situation, all he can really think of is Yuri inside him instead of his fingers, how _big_ he is, how _full_ Byleth would feel…

“Okay, fuck this,” Yuri curses, surging forward and pulling Byleth’s hand out of himself—Byleth’s yelp quickly turns into a whine at the loss, but he forgets everything when Yuri replaces it with his own fingers, wet with his own pre-come. He moves much faster than Byleth had, fucking him hard and fast on his fingers; Byleth groans and buries his face in Yuri’s shoulder, his thighs and legs shaking from exertion.

It must be harder to balance like this, though, with Yuri hovering above Byleth and bracing himself with only one arm against the bed. So… as a little act of revenge, should Byleth just make it even harder for him? As a treat.

With his now-free hand, Byleth gropes near-blindly downwards until he wraps his fingers around Yuri’s cock—then finds his own neglected erection leaking all over his stomach, and Byleth jerks his hips upwards to bring them together. The slide of their cocks has them moaning almost in unison, and Yuri’s pre-come drips down to join the mess on Byleth’s stomach. “Again,” Yuri gasps, shoving his fingers in Byleth’s hole until he reaches deep enough for Byleth to shudder and cry out. “ _Again._ ”

Byleth should probably say something, but he can’t manage to form words right now, nor does he trust himself to even be coherent—he tightens his grip instead, moving as fast as his shaking hand allows, letting his heady moans fill the room as Yuri quickens his pace even further—Byleth’s always liked Yuri’s long fingers, but now he’s _obsessed_ with them and how easily they reach his prostate. “Yuri,” he gasps, feeling the heat in his stomach gather, “Yuri, I-I—”

“Yeah?” Yuri pants, grinding his hips downwards—Byleth bites back what he’s sure would have been a mortifying sob. “You gonna come? You gonna come for me, baby? Make a mess all over yourself?”

“Please—” Byleth squeezes his eyes shut, bucking his hips in time with Yuri’s fingers. “Deeper, deeper, please—”

Yuri bends down to kiss him, though it’s less a kiss and more a sloppy meeting of their mouths—a thin string of saliva connects their lips when he pulls back, and Yuri licks at the drool that’s dripped down Byleth’s chin without his noticing. “That’s right,” he whispers, burying his fingers in Byleth as far as they can go. “Go on. Let me see you come, sweetheart.”

Byleth hardly even registers his orgasm, only that the pleasure is gone before he can really appreciate it—his come is splattered across his stomach, some of it even reaching just beneath his chest. He gives Yuri’s dripping cock one, two, three last pumps, and then Yuri is crying out and coming all over him, adding to the complete mess on Byleth’s torso.

For a few seconds, there’s only silence—they’re both evidently trying to catch their breaths, and after a while Yuri slowly extracts his hand from Byleth’s ass. “That… You… Fuck,” he says, eloquently.

“Sorry,” Byleth manages. Even just one word has him exhausted all over again. “I wasn’t counting on finishing too fast… I wanted you inside…”

“Wh—How do you just _say stuff_ like that,” Yuri sighs, rolling over to collapse on the space beside Byleth. Byleth can’t even move right now, else he earn himself an extensive trip to the laundromat for transferring the mess on his stomach to his bedsheets.

Byleth gives him a look. “ _You’re_ the one always saying embarrassing things while we’re doing… this.”

“Well, that’s… okay, fair,” Yuri allows. He stares at Byleth—specifically, somewhere beneath Byleth’s left eye, as if he’s thinking deeply about something—then gets that look on his face that Byleth knows means he’s gotten yet another Idea. “Hey, I thought of something. You still have you-know-what, right?”

Byleth frowns. “I… don’t know what.”

“You know. The plugs.”

Byleth’s first thought is that Yuri is asking him for ear plugs, for whatever reason, and he very nearly asks what he needs those for before remembering himself. “ _Oh._ Those. Yeah, let me just… wait, can you pass the tissue?”

After cleaning himself up, Byleth shuffles over to his cabinet, pulls out the drawer at the bottom, and rummages around for several long minutes before finally fishing a product box out. “What for?” he asks, flopping back onto the bed as Yuri sits up, that familiar eager glimmer in his eyes. Byleth hasn’t really used the butt plugs since Yuri strolled into his life, aside from that one time he’d rather not think about.

Wait a minute. That one time… if Yuri is bringing the plugs up again now…

Yuri thumbs the box open. “Wanna do you-know-what again tomorrow? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“ _Huh?_ ”

“Now I _know_ you know what I’m talking about. I don’t have to explain it.”

“That, I, er, um.” Byleth swallows, takes several deep breaths, and tries again. “I… don’t know… wasn’t last time sort of, um. A disaster?”

Yuri smirks. “A disaster you _enjoyed,_ that’s for sure.”

That is, admittedly, true. Byleth isn’t a fan of thinking back on that time, but honestly only because he had liked it so much, it’s humiliating. If his sister ever found out… actually, no, she wouldn’t care—if someone like _Dad_ ever found out… Byleth would go throw himself into the ocean and let that be the end of things. And now Yuri wants to do it _again?_

“Are you sure?” Byleth meekly asks. “It doesn’t really benefit _you,_ you know.”

“Sure it does. I get to see you look even more adorable than usual.” Yuri’s smirk widens into a grin as he tosses a tiny, vaguely oval-shaped object from hand to hand. Byleth briefly closes his eyes and prays to whatever god is listening for guidance and blessing. “What about it? We’ll stop whenever you want to, obviously.”

“Okay, _fine,_ ” Byleth sighs, perfectly aware this had been a losing battle from the start. He really can’t remember the last time he’d said no to Yuri’s face. “But I’m going to be in class. What if… you know…?”

Yuri shrugs. “Run to the restroom and do your business there? Anyway, we’ve only got one class tomorrow, so it’s not like I’ll be bothering you all day.” He leans forward for another kiss, though this time he aims for Byleth’s neck, teeth grazing his skin just enough to make Byleth shiver. “You should be more worried about when we’re together during rehearsal. Hmm… and why don’t you wear something around here while we’re at it, too?”

Byleth stares down at his hands, and thinks, _Fuck._

The first time they’d done this, Yuri had also been the one to bring it up—Byleth vaguely remembers a conversation about sex toys and what sorts they have. Yuri, of course, had a wide variety Byleth would rather not list down. And Byleth, of course, only had his set of plugs.

When he’d shyly mumbled he owned them, complete with the remote, Yuri had brightened, that grin lighting up his face. “Then how do you feel about using them again?”

Byleth had his reservations, of course, but he couldn’t deny the prospect intrigued him enough to say yes. It wasn’t a day where they had lectures and rehearsal afterwards, though—it was a Saturday, so they decided to go on an ‘outing’ around the city that Byleth now realizes felt a lot like a date, but that’s not important right now.

It’d been uncomfortable and awkward at first—the plug always felt in danger of falling out (though it didn’t, thankfully), moreso when Yuri was playing with the remote tucked just inside his jacket pocket. As the day went on, though, Byleth got more used to the… publicity… of it all, and the awkwardness faded to make way for that feeling that Byleth can’t really call _pleasure,_ because that’d be understating things.

Anyway, after hours of holding back various embarrassing noises throughout a number of coffee shops and cafés, what mattered was that it ended with them in an empty public restroom, Byleth literally on his knees and begging for Yuri’s dick. You can guess what happened next.

…But that had been _outside,_ in places where people were busy and barely paying attention to strangers. And now Yuri wants to do it on a day full of _lectures?_

No, that isn’t quite fair. _Byleth_ wants to do it on a day full of lectures. And that might be the worst part of it all.

Philosophy is the one class Byleth shares with Yuri. Neither of them wanted it, but somehow it ended up in their schedules anyway, and Dad’s friends with Professor Seteth, so Byleth just has to suck it up and sit through the most God-awful boring discussions he’s ever witnessed in his past four years of college.

Yuri, predictably, uses the whole 50 minutes for playtime.

They’re in the middle of _silent reading,_ of all things, when Byleth feels the vibrations start up—they’re fairly weak, but with it happening so suddenly, he still jerks hard enough in his seat for his elbow to bang against his chair. Professor Seteth glares at him from behind the teacher’s desk, but says nothing—Byleth knows making more noise will be pushing his luck, though, so he focuses on staring down hard enough at the words on the textbook to drown out the sensations.

The sensations that are getting _stronger._

When Seteth looks down at his papers, Byleth turns around in his seat and shoots Yuri a baleful look, who only smirks in response—one of his hands is idly flipping the pages of the play script, while his other hand is tucked in his pocket and very clearly fiddling with what must be the remote. _Don’t do this,_ Byleth tries to telepathically communicate. _I am not doing this in front of Seteth. Of all possible people. Not him._

Yuri just sort of shrugs, and then—Byleth bites back a gasp he’s _sure_ would have echoed in the room when the vibrations jump a level higher. Now it’s almost too much to bear, because this is the level he used to go up to when he wanted to come, and he _knows_ there are probably more. If Yuri decides to use those…

“Is everyone finished?” Seteth calls, glancing around the room. Students blink sleepily and lift themselves off their desks. “Good. We shall begin with some reviewing. Byleth, would you like to give us the main subject for discussion?”

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ Byleth stands up as steadily as he can, although he’s fairly sure the student sitting behind him—and the students sitting all around him, honestly—can see exactly how hard his legs are wobbling. “It’s, uh…”

Thankfully, Yuri has mercy on him and weakens the vibrations enough for Byleth to answer—as soon as Seteth nods, Byleth just about collapses back onto his chair, digging his nails into his arms to keep from whimpering. Yuri only allows him a few seconds before the power level rises once more, this time higher than the one Byleth had almost gotten used to—he swallows hard, angling his face away from Seteth’s line of sight and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep his breathing at a regular pace.

“Byleth?” someone whispers—Byleth cracks an eye open to glance at the girl sitting beside him. “You doing okay? You’re really red…”

“Fine,” Byleth manages. “Just. Uh. A little… sick.”

“Well, you should go to the infirmary or something. Valid excuse to get out of this class, at least.”

“Ah, um, yeah, I… I guess…” If Byleth stands up again _now,_ though, he has a feeling it would be extremely difficult to keep everyone, especially Seteth, from seeing the growing bulge in his trousers. “No, I—I think I’ll be fine…”

He shifts a little in his seat, trying to make his… _situation_ a little less obvious, but all that accomplishes is give his hardening cock more friction. Byleth has to pass his unbidden gasp off as a particularly fake-sounding cough, and clears his throat ridiculously loudly when he hears Yuri snicker behind him. The vibrations are steadily growing stronger, and Byleth can feel the front of his underwear dampen from pre-come—although it’s hard to focus on anything at the moment, with the haze of pleasure beginning to cloud his senses, he has enough mind to turn around again and give Yuri as pleading a look as possible.

Yuri tilts his head to the side, still grinning widely. _What? Want me to stop?_ he seems to be asking. The hand hidden in his pocket moves under the fabric, and—

Byleth drops his forehead down to his desk. This is the highest level, he knows it, it _has_ to be, because it’s sending waves of heat spreading through his insides. His cock twitches from beneath his clothes, asking to be released, and it aches hard enough that Byleth knows any careless movement will have him coming in his underwear—but _fuck,_ he’s so desperate, he almost _wants_ it. He’s had the plug in him for the entire day, with only this time having Yuri near enough for the remote to connect, and _God_ if Byleth doesn’t want to get something out of the past five or so hours of having the plug stuck in his ass.

Fuck. Could he do this? Could he actually come silently, in the middle of thirty-odd other people, including his _religion teacher?_ Byleth worries on his lower lip, glancing down at his pants—if he came, would there be a wet patch there, distinct enough for others to notice? Would he _want_ that? At this point, he’s willing to risk it, because he needs this orgasm so bad, it’s literally painful.

With a surge of conviction, Byleth closes his eyes and lowers his hand beneath the desk—

The vibrations abruptly stop.

Byleth whirls around and stares incredulously at Yuri, who looks seconds away from bursting into hysterical laughter. How _could he._ Byleth had been willing to throw away his life… okay, maybe not that much… Byleth had been willing to throw away his dignity, and Yuri pulls _this_ on him? Byleth wants to throw his textbook at the man’s face, pretty as it is.

Yuri adopts a faux-innocent face. If he could speak, he would probably say something like, _I thought you wanted me to stop,_ in a voice sarcastic enough to drip poison.

Okay, okay. This is fine. Really, this just means Byleth doesn’t have to embarrass himself in front of an entire class and Professor Seteth (who would probably tell Dad, and oh God, wasn’t Byleth _just_ thinking up ways to die if Dad ever found out about his sex life), so really, no problem. He’s fine. He’s just really fucking hard for no reason now. He can deal with that, like… later, or something—

Byleth swears he hears a _click_ before the vibrations start up again, this time far from slowly—they rocket up to one of the higher levels in an instant, and Byleth grips onto the edge of his desk so hard, the wood creaks under his fingers. He bites down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood, but a “ _fuck_ ” escapes him anyway, just loud enough that the girl beside him overhears.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” she asks once more, sounding genuinely worried. “Look, I know Professor Seteth never lets anyone go to the restroom, but you look like you’re running a fever. I’m sure he’ll let you go see Professor Manuela.”

“I’m okay,” Byleth croaks. He sounds three steps away from collapsing at Death’s doorstep. “Anyway, I, uh… I’m… failing… this class… can’t fail in attendance too… haha…”

The girl raises an eyebrow, like she knows he’s lying but doesn’t have enough evidence to say so. “If you’re sure,” she sighs, then blessedly returns to her notebook.

Pleasure courses through him in waves. Byleth muffles his moan in his arm, and it sounds just similar enough to a sigh that no one gives him a second look, but any longer and Byleth’s fairly sure he won’t be able to keep it as quiet. God, he’s getting close again, he can feel it, his underwear must be completely ruined by now—fuck, if he only just touches himself once—

And again, as soon as his hand dips beneath the edge of the desk, the vibrations halt to a stop. Byleth wants to bash his head against a convenient wall.

Yuri is doing this on purpose, he knows it. To be fair, Byleth _had_ agreed to this, but he hadn’t thought edging in this manner would feel _this_ frustrating. The humiliating aspect is practically just a concern to be worried about for the sake of courtesy at this point, with how desperate Byleth feels. Just _one_ orgasm, just one, _fuck…_

He does his best to keep his groan in his head when the vibrations begin once more. They’ve still got 30 minutes on the clock.

By the time Seteth dismisses them—going over their time by a few damn minutes, of course—Byleth has almost come at least five times. He’s honestly more surprised that he lasted long enough _and_ stayed conscious throughout the entire lecture to still have enough common sense to wait for everyone else to leave the room before standing up and awkwardly walking with his bag in front of his crotch. Yuri’s waiting outside, leaning against the wall and tapping away at his phone like he hadn’t almost committed a murder via blue balls.

“ _You,_ ” Byleth immediately says, grabbing Yuri’s wrist. Yuri just flutters his lashes and smiles brilliantly. “Don’t you look at me that way. I almost died in that room.”

“Oh, I’m sure an orgasm or two wouldn’t have killed you.” Yuri reaches up, brushing his fingers against the choker on Byleth’s neck. “And I see you followed my advice! Looking very pullable there, darling.”

“I’m going to wring your neck.”

“I’ve never been into breathplay, but now that you bring it up…”

Byleth sighs, more to hide his smile than anything. God, now that he’s out of the room and all the blood in his dick has slowly begun to return to his brain, though, he’s starting to realize just how close to death he’d actually come. Pun not intended. “Why did I agree to this…”

Yuri grins, pressing close to kiss his cheek—the action is unexpectedly tender again, and Byleth is really going to collapse if this keeps happening. “Do you want to stop? You can tell me, you know. I don’t have any classes after this, so…”

“Oh.” Byleth feels himself blush again, and this time he’s too tired to force it down. “Um… no, it’s… uh, I’m fine, I mean… I… like it…”

Yuri blinks, looking at a loss for words, then laughs loud enough that passersby in the hallway turn to look their way. “I never knew your little exhibitionist streak went this far! You’re cuter than I thought, and we’ve known each other for, like, a year.”

“S-Shut up.”

“Hehe. I won’t bother you too much during rehearsal, ‘cause you’ll probably be with Hubert in the tech booth and God knows that guy sees everything.” Yuri pauses, looking thoughtful for a second, before his grin returns. “But if there are any breaks in between, and you find yourself alone in there…”

Byleth has another class after that, where he spends another hour staring into space and trying to ignore the mild ache in his cock for all the torture it went through; afterwards, he heads to the auditorium, where he knows he’s late for rehearsal. Edelgard gives him one look, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as if somehow well aware of his current state, and says, “Hubert’s already up there. Could you go and help?”

“Sure. How’s everyone else?” Hubert is fairly good with lights and sounds, with how observant he is. Byleth tends to be more worried about the people making props, considering how… untrustworthy they sometimes are.

Edelgard shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.” She slings her axe-sized bag over her shoulder like it’s a weapon and she’s heading to the battlefield. “You go ahead.”

“Uh, okay.” Byleth hopes they don’t get charged for murder the next day because bodies were found in the backstage or something.

Fiddling with the lights and sounds is the same as always. They have a quick run of the play, skipping scenes that aren’t as important, and Byleth quickly figures out which lights look best on Yuri at which points in the play, although that really isn’t the discovery he should be making right now. At some point, Hubert heads down to ask Edelgard for something, leaving Byleth alone to stare blankly at the soundboard and wonder idly if they can get a new one, because this unit is starting to get awfully rusty—

His phone dings with a message notification. Byleth hums when he sees Yuri’s name at the top. _saw hubert goin down. ure alone?_

_yeah_

_OK,_ Yuri replies, and immediately the vibrator flares to life once more.

Byleth almost kicks himself off his chair from a mix of surprise and pleasure—he slides open the window overlooking the auditorium, peering down at the stage, but he can’t see Yuri anywhere. Must be lurking somewhere backstage. Quickly, he types out, _what the heck!!!_ because he’s very eloquent and needs to make his point known.

 _whaaat?_ comes the reply. _ure alone! no cameras there! as long as no one goes up…_

Byleth winces. His dick is starting to show interest again, and with no one in the room this time, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold out as long as he did earlier. _what do you want me to do?_

_tell me how you feel_

That’s… easy enough, Byleth supposes. He’s done this before, though never over _text,_ where just anyone could hack into his phone and read. But… it shouldn’t be so hard. With shaking hands, he writes, _it feels good. like i’m alone in my room and touching myself while thinking of you._

 _oh shit,_ is Yuri’s lovely response. _go on?_

 _wish this were u instead._ The vibrations are strengthening again, and this time Byleth doesn’t hesitate to palm himself over his pants, low moans slipping from his mouth. Blessed friction, at _last—_ he’s already half-hard, and if he just imagines the plug inside him as Yuri’s cock instead… _i bet you want to fuck me in here again, don’t you?_

_duh_

The short response makes Byleth wonder if Yuri’s only typing with one hand, too. _you wanna fuck me on top of the soundboard? where anyone could just look up and see us?_

Byleth sighs, rubbing himself as best as he can over his trousers—he’s so hard, just a little more and he knows he’s going to come…

_wanna fuck u so bad_

_that plugs been inside u all day long i bet ure craving a real dick_

Byleth curses, hurriedly undoing his pants just enough to rub his cock over his damp underwear—faster, faster, just a bit more—he reaches up with his free hand to tug at his choker, suddenly too-tight in a way that makes it feel just-right. _God,_ he wishes so badly it were Yuri pulling it instead, wishes the vibrations in his ass weren’t vibrations at all but rather Yuri thrusting inside him, fucking him hard and fast and filling him up at last—

Footsteps. They’re easy to hear, with the stairs to the tech booth made of metal—Byleth freezes for all of one second, before hastily buttoning his trousers up and turning his back on the door, staring pointedly at the wall and trying to think of the least sexy things possible. When he glances behind him, Hubert is silently settling back onto his chair just a few ways away, skimming through his copy of the script.

 _yuri,_ Byleth types, _i swear i am on the verge of death._

_is my baby getting blue balls again… did little baby get interrupted by hubert ❤️_

_DID YOU PLAN THIS?_

Byleth can just about hear Yuri’s laughter over text. _NO but i did notice when hubert was going back up. really sucks to be u xo_

“Have you finished notes for 4A?” Hubert suddenly asks, voice as cool and calm as always, and Byleth has no choice but to turn around and get back to work, only now it’s suddenly several million times harder than pretending to pay attention to Professor Seteth was.

The instant rehearsal ends and Hubert leaves the auditorium—visible from Byleth’s convenient vantage point in the tech booth—he tosses his script in his bag and races down the stairs, taking the steps two-three at a time, and practically barrels through the doors of the dressing room. “Yuri!”

Yuri glances up from where he was tucking makeup supplies in his pouch—he hasn’t washed the makeup from this rehearsal all the way off yet, and his purple eyeshadow glitters more than usual. “Well, look who it is,” he singsongs, grinning when he leans back against one of the desks beneath the vanity mirrors, the lights around it illuminating his face in ways that has Byleth dizzy all over again. “You couldn’t have waited for me to text you myself?”

“No.” Yuri’s always the last one to leave the dressing room during rehearsals, and Byleth had figured today of all days would be no exception. And then, because he would rather not waste any more time than they already have, Byleth says, “Fuck me.”

Yuri looks almost surprised for a second, which Byleth understands—it isn’t often Byleth says things like these without plenty of blushing and stammering beforehand, but Byleth is far, far past that point by now. Then Yuri laughs, pushing himself off the desk. “Alright. Hold on—”

Byleth pouts. “ _Please_ don’t make me wait any longer.”

“—be a good boy for me,” Yuri continues, lilting voice lowering into the tone he usually reserves for the bedroom, “and get on the table.”

 _Oh._ Byleth swallows and has half a mind to ask just what Yuri has planned, considering how unexpectedly deliberate his movements are, but Yuri only needs to shoot him a look for Byleth to settle himself at the edge of the long table in the middle of the dressing room, between the vanity desks and the full wall mirror on the right. Yuri gives him an assessing once-over, then nods. “Hands above your head.”

“What are—”

“Do you want to get fucked or not?”

Byleth frowns and dutifully lifts his arms over his head—there’s nothing in here that could serve as bondage material, and he highly doubts Yuri had carried around a bit of rope around the whole day just for this. He’s thoroughly bewildered when Yuri trots over to one of the dressers, pulls a drawer open, then returns to Byleth’s side with some soft scrap fabric in hand. “These aren’t very strong,” Yuri muses, “but they won’t chafe, so just try not to rip it, alright? Else someone is going to find out what we were up to in here.”

“W-Wait. You’re using _that?_ ” Byleth had very nearly ripped straight out of regular rope before. Granted, that had only happened once, but it had been a very close call, and with how pent-up Byleth is right now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold back.

Yuri’s already tying his wrists together, finishing the knot off with a little bow. “Surely you’ve got _some_ self-control in those muscles of yours.”

Byleth doesn’t know what he was supposed to say in response, because just the feeling of his hands being bound and leaving him vulnerable to whatever Yuri is planning has him silent in anticipation already. Yuri clearly notices, because his lips curl prettily into a wicked grin. “Excited, aren’t you?”

“M-Mm…”

“Alright. Stay nice and still for me, sweetheart.” Yuri gently nudges Byleth to lie on his back on the table while his legs are still hanging awkwardly off the edge—with deft fingers, Yuri undoes his trousers and tosses them to the floor. “God, you’re _wet._ ”

Byleth can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks once again. “D-Don’t say it like _that._ ”

“Aaand yet, it’s true.” Yuri palms his dick through his underwear, and Byleth squirms in place, legs reflexively folding up in the vague direction of his chest, like they usually do when he lies on his back for Yuri. Belatedly, he realizes being on this table, normally used for leaving play costumes and smaller props on, leaves him at the perfect level for Yuri to… “Wow, you’re hard already? That was fast.”

“Fast?” Byleth repeats, not quite sure he’s hearing correctly. “You call this entire day ‘fast?’”

“Hm, fair.” Yuri slowly tugs Byleth’s underwear off of him, bending down to mouth at the inside of his thighs, making his way up to kiss the tip of Byleth’s twitching cock. “You’re _so_ cute, Byleth… come on, lift yourself up a little for me…”

And right away, Byleth’s sinking into that headspace where he can’t think of anything but Yuri—Yuri’s hands gently pushing his legs wider open, Yuri’s tongue languidly licking long stripes up his erection, Yuri’s voice murmuring against his skin. “Mm, _nngh—_ ” He tenses up when he feels Yuri’s hand brush his aching hole, then pull the well-used plug out at last. “H-Hah…”

“Does it feel empty in there?” Yuri purrs, fingers rubbing around Byleth’s perineum but never entering him—Byleth whines wordlessly again, tossing his head to the side. Yuri’s grinning, pushing his legs further up until they’re folded at the knee and Byleth’s hole is on full display for Yuri… and whoever might happen to enter the dressing room right now. “You got so used to being filled up, baby?”

“Y-Yuri…”

A swift slap to his left thigh has Byleth gasping and jolting forward, reflexively rolling his hips down on an imaginary cock. “Come on. Give me an answer.”

“Yes,” Byleth whimpers, peering up—or down?—at Yuri. The angle is tricky and hurts his eyes if he looks for too long, but Byleth wants nothing more than to drown himself in those glimmering violet eyes. Have the lights of the dressing room always looked so brilliant on Yuri? “I want to be f-filled…”

“Try again.” Yuri squeezes his ass, kneading the soft skin there and forcing Byleth to shut his eyes and bite back a moan. “I know you want more than just that. And—” His grip turns into another spank, this one harder and directly against Byleth’s ass—Byleth cries out, his voice echoing in the room. “Did I tell you to stop looking at me?”

Byleth painstakingly opens his eyes again, blinking up at Yuri standing over him, hand rubbing his ass once more. “Fuck me,” he says again, this time with far more emotion than earlier. “Please fuck me, Yuri, I’ve m-missed your cock…”

He almost wonders if he sounds a little trite despite just saying the first thing on his mind, but Byleth stops worrying about that—and about everything else, really—when Yuri grins, satisfied, and reaches down to undo his own pants. “ _Good_ boy. That’s more like it. Mm, I _love_ it when you beg.”

In another minute, Yuri’s easing his cock into Byleth’s hole, already opened just enough from the plug—Byleth tries his best to muffle his moans in his shoulder without looking away from Yuri, but it’s near-impossible. Yuri looks like he’s enjoying watching him struggle all the same. “You were awful bold up there in the tech booth earlier,” Yuri says, pushing further inside Byleth until his balls press against Byleth’s ass. “You want me to fuck you on top of the sound board, huh? You want strangers to watch you get fucking pounded?”

Byleth whimpers again—the effort of keeping his eyes open is near painful now, and he closes them just fast enough that he’s sure Yuri shouldn’t notice. Except, of course, he does, and Byleth’s rewarded with another hard smack to his thigh, one that has him groaning and bucking his hips downwards to fuck himself on Yuri’s cock.

“Yes,” Byleth gasps out, eyes fluttering open once more. Something wet trickles down the side of his face, and he can’t tell if it’s tears or sweat. “W-Want… I want it…”

Yuri pins his hip down on the table—he’s not strong enough to actually keep Byleth from moving, but the authority in the action is enough to make Byleth feel like a prey cornered by the predator. “Stay _nice and still,_ ” he murmurs, pushing Byleth’s shirt up over his chest. “I don’t remember letting you fuck yourself on me.”

Yuri leans forward, this time to flick his tongue over one of Byleth’s nipples—Byleth keens, just barely keeping himself from closing his eyes again. Usually it’s the other way around when they do this, so being treated to not just the feeling but also the _view_ of Yuri sucking on his nipple is sending Byleth’s entire body into paroxysms of delight.

But—Byleth swallows again—he’s _still_ not moving, and Byleth doesn’t think he can last very long without his dick suffering long-term damage from how much edging it’s been treated to today. “Yuri,” he breathes, doing his damndest to keep his voice from shaking too much, “please… please just fuck me already, please, I need it…”

Yuri doesn’t respond immediately, pulling his lips away from Byleth’s nipple—Byleth hesitantly lets himself feel some relief, because surely Yuri will _move_ now, right—but no, Yuri just moves on to his other nipple, swirling his hot tongue around the pert bud. “ _Yuri,_ ” Byleth tries to protest, though his voice comes out terribly similar to a moan. He never expected this to feel so good and so _torturous_ at the same time, so much so that Byleth is torn between the two sensations. “Please, _please—_ ”

Byleth feels Yuri laugh softly against his skin, and Yuri drags his tongue down the dip of Byleth’s chest one more time before retreating, his hands coming down to grip Byleth’s thighs in an all-too-familiar grip. “Alright, I hear you,” he says, nails digging into Byleth’s skin.

If it weren’t for his rapidly-wavering self-control, Byleth’s sure he would have come as soon as Yuri began to thrust inside him—it’s just as he always moves, hard and fast and intent on burying his cock as deep inside Byleth as possible. Byleth lets his head rest back on the table, unable to do much else but let his mouth fall open. “God—God, yes, _please,_ ” he hears, only half-aware of what he’s even saying, “harder, _harder,_ Y-Yuri, _fuck—_ ”

“You’re so loud, baby,” Yuri pants, and through the fog of pleasure in his head, Byleth takes a bit of satisfaction at how Yuri has definitely been wanting to do this for a while, too. “Gotta be careful… what if someone hears you? Oh, no, you’d _want_ that, wouldn’t you?”

Another hard thrust, and a choked moan leaves Byleth’s lips when Yuri’s cock hits his prostate, which has been neglected for nearly the entire day. Pre-come beads at the head of his cock, stray drops dripping onto the table beneath him. “You want everyone to see how you look when you’re like this? You sure, sweetheart?” Yuri reaches forward, hooking a finger under Byleth’s choker and pulling _hard—_ Byleth’s forced to lift his head and follow Yuri’s hand if he wants to avoid actually choking. “You want ‘em to hear you beg for dick? See how your ass looks when I’m done with it?”

Yuri lets go of the choker, letting the fabric slap back onto Byleth’s throat—he whines, falling back onto the table, and now he’s sure these are tears falling down the sides of his face now. Yuri’s pace starts anew, mercilessly fast and deep, every other thrust hitting Byleth’s prostate and pulling desperate sounds from Byleth’s mouth. “Show me off,” he manages, just barely coherent. “I w-want you to show me off to everyone…”

This—whatever this is—isn’t borne from a narcissistic streak, Byleth’s fairly sure. There’s just something about the idea of Yuri showing him off to others, in literally any possible way, that has Byleth’s heart doing loop-de-loops in his chest.

By the way Yuri’s gone silent, eyes wide and pupils swimming in arousal, Byleth thinks he likes it, too.

Then Yuri growls, “You want that? You want that so bad, huh?” And, before Byleth can even manage a response, Yuri takes hold of his chin and tilts his face until Byleth’s looking right at… oh, God, at _himself,_ through the full wall mirror just right beside them. “Look at yourself, then. Watch how I fuck you. Watch how you get _fucked._ Don’t you dare take your eyes off yourself.”

If Byleth’s mouth weren’t already dry before, it would have been downright drained of any moisture at the sight—at his greedy hole just about swallowing up Yuri’s cock, in and out, in and out, pre-come and lube alike dripping down his ass in rivulets—“Well?” Yuri gasps, lifting Byleth’s legs as high up as they can go and giving the both of them a clear view of how his cock looks fucking into Byleth’s hole. “Like what you see?”

“Y-Yuri…” Byleth bites down on his lower lip, not sure what else to say. The only words coming to mind at the moment are words he’d rather not let escape his heart, much less his mouth. “You… I…”

“You should.” Yuri bends down to kiss his stomach, right over a light scar Byleth can’t remember the story behind. “You’re gorgeous. Only reason I wouldn’t show you off is ‘cause I’m the jealous type.”

Byleth blinks back more tears before they cloud his vision too much—then, keeping one eye on their reflection, he clenches down hard around Yuri’s cock.

The reaction is immediate—Yuri moans, voice as mesmerizing and beautiful as Byleth knows it is, and he grips down hard on Byleth’s thighs once more. “You want me to come in your ass, huh?”

“Please…”

“You wanna feel it fill you up?”

“Please!” Byleth finally shouts, loud enough that he’s sure anyone standing outside the dressing room would have heard him—the thought has his cock throbbing with need again, and he reflexively tries to move his hand down to jerk himself off before remembering they’re tied above his head.

Yuri groans—two, three desperate thrusts later and he’s coming hard inside Byleth, his mouth falling open as he rides out his orgasm, his cock pulsing inside Byleth’s ass. Byleth can’t help but stare up at how Yuri looks as he’s coming—his brows are scrunched together, and the softest, most adorable little _oh_ leaves his pink lips when he finishes, lashes fluttering like the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

“Fuck, Byleth,” he sighs, needing both hands to brace himself against the table and keep from collapsing, “that was… Jesus. I don’t even—” Yuri blinks. “Wait, you haven’t come yet.”

Byleth squirms in place. “The… I wanna see…”

His entire body is still on fire, and the room feels too hot for him to be anywhere near coherent right now—thankfully, Yuri seems to understand, as he slowly pulls out of Byleth and maneuvers Byleth’s body until he’s sitting up and completely facing the mirror, legs still drawn up to expose his hole. “Look at yourself,” Yuri croons, hands dipping down to tease Byleth’s nipples again. “You’re a _mess,_ darling.”

Byleth inhales sharply—Yuri’s come is dribbling out of his hole, already beginning to pool on the table surface. His cock is _aching,_ and Byleth knows he’ll be finished off with one touch. “Yuri, please—please touch me—”

“Oh, I can’t say no when you beg like that…” One of Yuri’s hands stay on his chest, twisting and tweaking his nipple until the thin line between pleasure and pain disappears altogether, while the other dips down… and entirely bypasses Byleth’s cock, instead pressing against his hole. Yuri slips two fingers inside him right away, coaxing even more come out—an entire glob of the thick white fluid oozes out of him, and Byleth almost, _almost_ comes untouched right then and there. “What a sight. Are you seeing this right now, sweetheart?”

“I-I am…” Byleth wants to bury his face in Yuri’s shoulder from mortification, but all he can do is sit and watch, transfixed, spreading his legs wider for Yuri’s fingers. “There’s… so much, f-fuck, I…”

Yuri kisses the side of his head, tongue flicking out to lick at a tear track. “You love it when I fill you right up like this, huh?”

“Yes, God—”

“You love seeing all my come inside you like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Y-Yuri—”

Yuri nips at his earlobe, adding a third finger as he starts fucking Byleth again on his hand. Byleth moans brokenly, doing his best to ride Yuri’s fingers as best as he can, his painfully hard cock bouncing between his slick thighs. “You know the only thing that’s missing right now?”

Byleth almost doesn’t want to know. “Wh—What?”

“Me recording this whole thing.”

Byleth groans, rolling his hips down on Yuri’s fingers until they sink down to the third knuckle, fingertips pressing against his prostate. “ _Fuck,_ Yuri—”

“I wanna get all the good angles,” Yuri continues, his voice in Byleth’s ear like a tender caress of the wind. Byleth can feel his hole tightening around Yuri’s fingers, squeezing out more thick, hot come. “Get a closeup of your dick. Look at it, it’s leaking so fucking much. And zoom in on your ass, so everyone’d see what we’re seeing right now, you being a total cumslut—”

“ _Yuri,_ ” Byleth sobs, and then he’s coming before he knows it, spilling all over himself and Yuri’s hand—Yuri’s saying something, but Byleth can’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears as he chases the pleasure as far as he can, clenching around Yuri’s fingers and the excess come still sloshing wetly inside him.

And then—the heat of his climax is gone as fast as it had come, fading away and leaving him to slump bonelessly against Yuri’s side, utterly exhausted.

“Well,” Yuri says, voice back to its typical chipper, slightly-teasing tone again, “that sure was something.”

Byleth means to reply perfectly normally, but all that leaves his mouth when he opens it is “Mnngh gah.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Shit, you’re a mess, Byleth,” Yuri laughs. “Wait here, okay? I’ll clean up this time, I’m not gonna make you move again after _that._ ” He helps steady Byleth into a sitting position, then hurries over to his bag for a tissue pack.

When they’re finally somewhat clean—or, well, clean enough for the five-minute walk back to Byleth’s apartment anyway—and Yuri’s tucking the tissue back in his bag, Byleth fumbles with his hands for a moment before managing, “Thanks.”

“Hmm?”

“For, you know… um, indulging me, I guess.” Though really, Byleth hadn’t expected to like literally everything that happened so much. Especially the mirror. He could not have prepared for the mirror, under any circumstances. “This was all kind of new.”

Yuri just shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face. “No worries. I liked it too, y’know. Anyway, I’m nothing if not adaptable… and today will make really good material for lonely nights.”

“ _Why._ ”

“Don’t _why_ me, you know very well why.”

Byleth wills the blush out of his cheeks as best as he can. “N… Never mind that. Um, do you have plans tonight? If not, do you want to come over to mine again?”

Yuri blinks in obvious surprise. “Whoa. You still want _more?_ ”

“N- _No!_ ” Byleth protests, jumping off the table before he can think any better of it and immediately regretting the action when his backside stings. “I just thought… you might want dinner or something? Takeout. Whatever you want, my treat.” At Yuri’s still-confused look, Byleth internally curses himself and adds, “I-I mean, only if you want to… if you don’t, that’s… fine, I guess—”

Now it’s Yuri’s turn to say, “No! I mean, yes? I-I mean, I want food! I mean… ah, fuck, well… why?”

If there were a sound for three question marks in a row, Byleth would have made it. As it is, he simply tilts his head and silently prompts Yuri to continue.

Yuri scratches his cheek in a manner that reminds Byleth, surprisingly, of himself. “You don’t have to. Do this, that is. Isn’t this just sex?”

The words hurt more than Byleth wants to admit. “But aren’t we at least friends?”

“Well, _yeah,_ but… I don’t know—look, okay,” Yuri says, suddenly speaking faster in the way he sometimes does when he gets nervous, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna, I just… wanna get it off my chest.”

“O-Oh. Uh. Okay?” Is this it? _Shit._ Byleth hadn’t prepared for this at all. And why is Yuri making it sound so serious? Is he about to… break things off? Once and for all? “Go on…?”

Yuri crosses his arms, uncrosses them, stares fixedly at the floor for around seven seconds, then finally lifts his chin to look Byleth right in the… nope, not in the eye, Yuri focuses on a spot somewhere next to Byleth’s nose instead. “Do you… _like,_ like me?”

Silence.

“What?” Byleth squeaks.

“Fuck! Sorry, I sounded like a fucking seven-year-old, I meant to ask if you actually like me for more than just sex,” Yuri says, all in one breath, and now Byleth knows he’s more than just nervous because Yuri’s starting to pace back and forth and run a hand through his hair. “Because yeah, this—thing of ours has been going on for a while now and I really, like, sort of, I don’t know, fucking _like you,_ I guess, but I have no damn idea if you feel the same ‘cause I keep getting mixed signals from y—actually, no, not mixed signals! It’s just hard to figure out what you’re thinking or feeling because, wow, no one is as good at the poker face as you are!” Yuri finishes it off with a hysterical, “Haha!”

In return, all Byleth can manage is, “Oh.”

“What ‘oh!?’ _Say something!_ ” Yuri just about shrieks, looking inches away from pulling his precious hair out.

“Oh,” Byleth repeats; then, slowly, so as to make sure he’s saying everything correctly, “I guess… I _like_ like you?”

“… _Huh?_ ” Yuri croaks.

“Wasn’t that your question!?” Byleth returns—he doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but now Yuri’s panic is starting to infect him and he has no idea if he had said the correct answer. If there was a correct answer at all, and this isn’t just a trick question.

“Wait! What about everything else I just said!?” Yuri squawks, flailing his arms and generally finishing off the image of a very harried parrot.

Byleth blinks slowly. Absolutely none of Yuri’s earlier words had registered in his head. “Oh, I… sort of… blanked out. Do you mind repeating—”

“ _Hell no!_ ” Yuri shouts, which Byleth had sort of expected, really. And then, just as quickly, Yuri’s frustrated expression morphs into one of bewilderment again. “Wait—are you serious? You like me? Like, _like_ li—I mean, actually like me, like, for real!?”

The amount of _like_ s in those sentences is dizzying, but somehow Byleth understands enough of it to nod. “I like you,” he says, even slower this time, testing the words out on his tongue—they don’t sound quite right, but he doesn’t need to wonder why. “No,” Byleth amends, “I love you, Yuri.”

For a moment there’s no response, and Byleth instantly worries he’s screwed up _already,_ when Yuri’s hand shakily reaches over to rest atop his own. “Say that again?” Yuri asks, looking up at Byleth with an indescribable emotion in his eyes, one Byleth could swear he’s seen before but had never been able to put a name to.

Byleth swallows. “I love you.”

“…Again?”

“I love you.” With each repetition, the words become easier and easier to say, and Byleth smiles as he speaks again, unbidden. “I love you. I love you, Yuri, I love—”

Yuri cups his cheeks in his hands and pulls Byleth in for a kiss.

It’s unlike any of the other kisses they’d shared before, because those had been—different, considering the circumstances—they were meetings of mouths before anything else, pure physical contact to share heat and spit. Byleth had always wanted those kisses to mean something, and they _had,_ to him—he had never known if Yuri felt the same, or if this was all something that was bound to end in a few months’ time.

But now—God, but _now,_ it’s everything Byleth could have wished for and more. He tangles his hands in Yuri’s hair, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, trying to memorize every single detail—Yuri’s cherry lipgloss, his soft hair flowing through Byleth’s fingers, the press of their bodies together as Yuri steps forward and pushes Byleth up against the edge of the table again. By this point, Byleth almost wouldn’t mind going another round on the table—after everything, after all the second-guessing, he figures they sort of deserve it.

When they pull away, all they can really do is stare at each other for a few long seconds—until Yuri sighs and rests his head against Byleth’s chest. “I’d _love_ to go again,” he says, sounding amused despite the exhaustion plain in his voice, “but I’m tired as shit, and now that you mentioned it, I really am fucking hungry. What do you want for dinner?”

“No, I—I said I’ll buy takeout! So you don’t have to get even more tired in my kitchen!”

Yuri scowls, although the pink in his cheeks detract from whatever intimidation factor there may have been. “How about this—we cook together. And _you_ try to do more than just boil the water and watch me do everything else like a lost kitten.”

The image of cooking together with Yuri flashes in Byleth’s head—moving beside each other in the kitchen, everything from their hands to their thoughts in sync, and suddenly cooking doesn’t seem like such an arduous task anymore. “Okay,” Byleth readily agrees, feeling himself brighten. “Cooking together.”

Yuri gives him another look. “Okay. Uh. Just to, um, make things clear, are we… you know…”

And, well—Byleth doesn’t even have to think about it. Why did he worry so much about feelings and emotions and all those other concerns when the answer was so clear, right in front of him? “I love you. And…”

“I love you too,” Yuri mumbles, a blush coloring his face.

“Okay. So, we’re together!”

“Wh— _together?_ ”

Byleth frowns. “Yeah. Like… boyfriends? I don’t know. Is there anything else?”

Yuri stares at him as if uncomprehending, then laughs and shakes his head. “Fuck it. Yeah, boyfriends. Whatever you want, Byleth. Now let’s go make dinner, and maybe this time you won’t be so hopeless in the kitchen.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is the recipe yuri briefly mentions in the first scene: [i don't even like banana pudding](https://www.delish.com/cooking/recipe-ideas/recipes/a51017/perfect-banana-pudding-recipe/)  
> \- _all_ the locations mentioned (auditorium, tech booth, backstage, dressing room of mirrors) are modeled after my old school for easier direction. this unfortunately means i can never look at those places the same ever again. good thing i graduated
> 
> thank you for reading (❁´◡`❁) if you liked this, check out [this tweet](https://twitter.com/featherxs/status/1239788477807349760)!
> 
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